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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522076">late night devil (your hearts got teeth)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamedbanshee/pseuds/tamedbanshee'>tamedbanshee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Arcana (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Gen, Liberal use of Italics, Lucio (The Arcana) Being A Dick, Named Apprentice (The Arcana), Tags Are Hard, Vesuvia (The Arcana), and basically says fuck that, no beta we die like men, somebody who's played the arcana wakes up in the apprentices body</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:40:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamedbanshee/pseuds/tamedbanshee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Body snatcher. Shapeshifter. Changeling. </p>
<p>The apprentice had died of the plague and a deal was made for her resurrection... of course, nothing could ever be that simple. So how did she go about explaining that this wasn't her body?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apprentice &amp; Julian Devorak, Apprentice &amp; Nadia (The Arcana), Apprentice &amp; Portia Devorak, Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Portia Devorak/Nadia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am... trash, for the entire Arcana cast. I don't think I've read where someone wakes up as the Apprentice just yet though. So I thought why the fuck not - especially considering she's going to mess everything up. Lemme know what you think, what could be improved on and I hope you're all keeping well!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Memories came and went. </span>
</p>
<p>It was unfortunate. The more she tried to hold onto them, the faster they left her - floating away from her grasp like they were bubbles caught in the wind. As if they were nothing more than sand between her fingers, slipping away like an upturned hourglass until she held onto nothing but <em>ash</em>. </p>
<p>It was a hollow feeling, empty and cavernous. </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Circe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the name she’d been given. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn't <em>her</em> name. It tasted wrong on her tongue, <em>felt</em> wrong, like wearing her left shoe on her right foot. It didn't <em>fit</em>. That was what Asra called her though and he was the first face she'd seen, the only memory she could hold onto and sink her teeth into and know that she wasn't going completely insane. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She'd known </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> name before her own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It'd been a month since the Apprentice had been <em>resurrected</em>. When she'd awoken like a woman drowning, bolting up and gasped for air. A deal struck for the body and no doubt, Asra wore the mark over his heart as proof. <em>So kind</em>, so patient with her as she fumbled through the first weeks of <em>living.</em> </span>
</p>
<p>Magic was threaded so thoroughly through Vesuvia. It was beautiful but dangerous, like a gossamer cobweb to entice the flies. She could see the links from one person to another. Hard to control, to distinguish, and understand but it got easier with every passing day. Asra had explained it was part of their nature, it was something everybody could learn but not always the <em>discipline</em>. </p>
<p>
  <span>It felt like water, like relearning to ride a bike - something she could meet halfways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, that was probably more to do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Circe’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>innate ability. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lying by omission was still lying. How did she stop and tell Asra that the woman he'd been caring for wasn't <em>his Circe?</em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The little she could scrape together from her foggy memory - the Apprentice had been an enigmatic individual. A lot left to the reader's imagination. They'd been a talented magician for years. Circe had been a kind and gentle woman. <em>That, </em>that was who Asra was doing it all for, <em>not her</em>. She was just hijacking the body, much like he'd done with the ritual. She didn't deserve his kindness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He'd been surprised at her progress and slowly, he began to tell her about the life she'd supposedly lived. Before the plague had taken her from him. Of course, nothing was ever that simple and the pain felt like she was being cleaved in two. Asra had held her, whispering spell after spell until she forgot what he'd told her; only the knowledge that he'd <em>tried</em> remained. </span>
</p>
<p>Perhaps it was because the memories didn't belong to her? </p>
<p>The original Circe had died, a good woman who'd refused Asra's pleas to run away. She'd remained in Vesuvia, she'd wanted to help combat the plague which had eventually killed her. Dying alone, scared and in pain; burnt until there was nothing left of her and laid to rest in the beaches of Lazaret. </p>
<p>
  <span>The Magician had to know what he’d be bringing back when Asra had pleaded for her life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d known the entire time that the Circe he’d resurrected - </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span>...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The body didn’t belong to her. She felt like a passenger some days, an observer. Even when the bones felt like home, the skin and muscle were </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was her reflection that startled her the most because sometimes she could forget. The face that wasn’t her own staring back, her reflection was just another stranger. Everyone was a stranger, </span>
  <em>
    <span>even-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m heading to the market,” Asra called out, pushing back the beaded curtains to the back room. “Do we need anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waited patiently as the glaze was wiped from her eyes, as Circe blinked and came back down to earth from her introspection. She swivelled around on the small step ladder against the shelves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re all out of leeches,” her mouth moved without though but her mind instantly flicked to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Julian</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It didn’t take a mindreader to know that was where Asra’s mind moved as well; the way his eyes darkened and the corners of his lips pulled tight before they flattened into his usual </span>
  <em>
    <span>unreadable</span>
  </em>
  <span> smile. “Maybe some powdered asphodel too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll pick some up,” he agreed easily, grabbing his satchel. “Do you want to come with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faust beat her to the punch. The slippery snake had a habit of hanging around whenever she was working, tucked away on the shelves, she slithered down Circe’s shoulder and arm with an eager wriggle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Trip? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She hummed with a curious flick of her tongue. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Market?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looks like someone’s already called dibs,” she laughed because as strange as the world was, it was the little things which she enjoyed. Faust was kind and soft and warm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Circe smiled, recalling the first time she’d heard the familiars voice echo in the recesses of her mind. It was hilarious… </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to Asra it was hilarious. She’d startled enough to fall right out of her chair, Faust worriedly peering down at her sprawled body. Limbs were thrown everywhere and her tarot deck scattered across the backroom floor. When she looked up from the lilac serpent, she could see the mischievous smirk which Asra wore. No doubt remembering the same moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gripped the back of the step ladder and swung her weight to lean towards Asra. His eyes flew between her and the ladder worriedly but Faust quickly launched herself as an unknowing distraction. The two of them laughed as she swung from one perch to the next.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was rare he left her alone… </span>
  <em>
    <span>the first time since she’d woken in this body</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...An opportunity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you see the baker,” she said, leisurely, as if it was an everyday occurrence because it was. Her thoughts were jumbled but Circe couldn’t help the excited smile that began to tilt her mouth. Asra grinned, no doubt thinking she was eager for whatever treats she could get her hands on - </span>
  <em>
    <span>she wouldn’t correct him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get some pumpkin bread.” He promised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They said their ‘goodbyes’, their ‘see you laters’ and Circe froze until the shop door closed. A beat of silence, waiting just to make sure that he was gone before she flew across the shop floor and flicked the sign to </span>
  <b>
    <em>closed</em>
  </b>
  <span>. Best not to have any customers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A month. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’d been in Vesuvia for a month</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In just under three years, the prologue would start. To whatever story, tale… </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever this was</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She didn’t know or care. All she had was a name that didn’t feel like her own and a body she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t her own. Not to mention the knowledge that the Devil was beginning to play chess, a game afoot that she didn’t want any part in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, she could either sit around and look pretty </span>
  <em>
    <span>or…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Circe grinned.</span>
</p>
<p><span>She almost tripped on her way up the stairs, the bells attached to her sarong jingling as she flitted around the room. Of course, she didn’t need to bring a lot with her… maybe a few changes of clothes? The travel pack that was under the bed was layered in dust, one she knew had belonged to </span><em><span>herself</span></em><span> many years ago. She had the vaguest memories of an Aunt who’d once owned the shop and how she’d visited before moving to Vesuvia. Misshapen memories which didn’t fit with her head. </span><em><span>Circe’s</span></em> <em><span>memories</span></em><span>. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Filling the rest of her travel pack was easy, a book of her own making with the spells that Asra had taught her. Not to mention her own notes and scribbles and the ones which Circe had made before the slate had been wiped clean. It was unnerving to see her own handwriting stare back, were they similar? In personality?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook the thoughts right out of her head, no time for that!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To start her journey with only a travel pack to her name, a small pouch of coins she’d been given? It was all she needed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t have a moment to spare and scrambled down the steps of the shop, bells jingling once more. Checking and double-checking she had everything she might need. Eventually, she swiped a bottle of water from the kitchen as well as the leftover from lunch. Just to tide her over until she got out of Vesuvia. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, when she stood by the coat rack next to the door, she stopped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Circe glanced around at the shop she’d called home for the month she’d spent there. The shelves rammed with tinctures and herbs and other odd ingredients. Loose decorations strung like stars from the beams above them and the odd gifts decorated the store. Asra had explained they were from his previous travels, not that he went into too much detail but they were quirky, to say the least. The smell of sage and lavender which clung to the place, tea bags loosey strewn across the counter and the velvet draped across the displays. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was comforting to know that she could see this as a place as close to home as she could get. As much of a stranger as she was in this world, Circe was going to miss it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a bittersweet smile, she grabbed one of Asra’s shawls. The deep violet colour was almost as dark as her hair but it complemented her skin tone nicely. Small stars and constellations were sewn in the thinnest silver thread across the silk, delicate pearls scattered prettily. Circe wrapped it around her shoulders and head, recalling his cologne fondly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One last glance at the empty shop. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Three years</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you soon,” she murmured with a small smile.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Three years after leaving Vesuvia, somehow, Circe is unfortunately dragged back home.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re quite good!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Circe paused with her tarot deck in hand, cards caught between the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Four of Cups</span>
  <em>
    <span> and </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Moon</span>
  <em>
    <span>. If she’d paid attention to the cards, she might’ve scoffed at how on the nose they were but instead, she was drawn to the wide violet eyes that stared back at her. They were almost childlike with glee as she continued to shuffle; almost a mindless action by that point. She’d used her talents in Zadith to barter passage to the Pearl Islands of Prakra. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just a humble stall by the nearest herbalist, a kindly woman called Anaïs who ran it with her wife, Danae. They greeted her every morning and invited her for dinner most nights. For some reason, they insisted on feeding her and Circe wasn’t going to complain. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you,” she said and instinctively cut the deck in three. Something in her gut, in her bones, told her that the woman needed her cards read. Circe knew better than to ignore her intuition and waived the usual coin that she asked for, offering the three card sets for the woman to choose from. As the woman hesitated, she let her eyes rove over her features - a wave of familiarity crashing over her. The curve of her jaw, the deep violet colour of her eyes which suited the sunset orange of her hair… Prakran Royalty. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tapping a manicured finger against the cards closest to her, the woman grinned. “That one.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you have a question in mind or just a general fortune?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A question, if you don’t mind,” the woman said, her smile suddenly strained. Her shawl slipping ever so slightly and her jewellery winked under the dim lighting. Her mouth curving into a more genial curve. “Do you give free readings often?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Only to Princesses who’ve caught my eye.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The carriage swayed from side to side, jolting over the lumps and bumps in the road but motion sickness was a thing of the past. Circe had gotten used to the rough travel, three days into their journey, she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>stir crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nasmira was kind enough to share her carriage rather than the two of them riding separately. She was a much better travel companion than some of her sisters, Navra and Nahara in particular. The former couldn’t sit still for a simple </span>
  <em>
    <span>dinner</span>
  </em>
  <span>, nevermind the long journey to Vesuvia. Nahara, on the other hand, preferred to travel by boat and Circe regretted not joining her. The carriage was too stagnant for either of them, Nahara preferred to be at the helm of things, helping man the ship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you excited, Circe?” Nasmira asked, eyes set upon the world that passed by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Was she excited?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The trip will be good for me,” she shrugged. “But Prakra is my home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m surprised Nadia even reached out,” the Princess hummed. “Didi has been quiet since she woke up… never one to ask for help. So independent. She’d try to take on the world single-handedly if she thought she could get away with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Circe struggled to mask her snort. “I’m pretty sure that’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>family </span>
  </em>
  <span>trait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nasmira blushed but she didn’t disagree. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d been careful with their trip, Nafizah had been the one to devise the quickest and safest route beforehand as well as where to stop. Before travelling through the Bulan Mountains, with its rocky paths and cliffs, they’d stocked up on everything they’d needed. Something they’d done as soon as they made it to the outskirts of the Catclaw deserts as well. Vesuvia only a day or so away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Circe wondered if she’d recognise anything of Vesuvia, the scenery or the viaducts or even the people?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Three years was a long time</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her nerves were playing up and she toyed with the small runestone around her neck. A polished amethyst she’d carved. Circe had gone to great lengths to make it, to remain </span>
  <em>
    <span>hidden</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Without it, Asra would’ve found her in a heartbeat. She’d crafted it as soon as she’d bought her passage from the docks to Zadith. It was a simple but powerful rune which kept her hidden from magical means. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tracking spells slid over her like water off a ducks back, like a breeze - she was unseen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Invisible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It didn’t stop her from feeling the magic that sought her out, a chill running down her spine every time it happened. Asra had no doubt gone out of his mind with worry since she was quivering constantly for the first days aboard the boat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sailors had thought she was seasick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It kept him out of her dreams. She kept out of the Arcana realms. They were ships passing in the night, just as she’d wanted them to be.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have anyone in Vesuvia, Circe?” Nasmira asked with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some people’d known her before death, Julian had overseen the Clinic she’d volunteered in before the plague had snuffed her out like a candle. She had a few acquaintances, the baker down the street or the barmaid in the Rowdy Raven. Asra… was a touchy subject in itself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes the guilt ate her alive for abandoning him, for leaving him without any explanation. Could she have survived though? Could she have continued living under his watch? When she’d fled Vesuvia, it was like shedding her scales. She’d tasted freedom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My mentor lived in Vesuvia,” Nasmira perked up at the details, she was always elusive with any sort of information from her time before Zadith. “From what I can remember, he travelled often. Kind, caring… I didn’t tell him I was leaving.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were you close?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was the first face I saw when I woke up after-” she tapped a finger against her temple and Nasmira hummed in understanding. The royal family was well-aware of her missing memories and the gaps in her knowledge. “He was my anchor for the first month.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her companions' features screwed up in confusion. “Then why not stay with him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Circe paused and tried to think of the words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When you were young, did your parents compare you to your sisters?” At her bewildered nod, she continued. “It felt like Asra was… comparing me to the woman he’d once known. I felt like I had to try and fill her shoes but without my memories, I didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how to be her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was a lot of pressure a-and I just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were silent for a moment and Circe almost startled when Nasmira grabbed her hand. The gold of her rings was cold in comparison to the warmth of her palm. Nothing needed to be said and they simply sat like that for a while until the Princess began to nod off. Slowly but surely, the rocking of the carriage carrying her off to sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As lovely and kind as Nasmira was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she snored terribly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a soft giggle, Circle began to hum… the sound faded until it was white noise, like a cat's purr. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her skin had darkened a shade under Prakra’s unrelenting heat, freckles flourishing much to the Princesses constant amusement; her dark hair, once passable as black, now shined through with deep violet tones. Lithe muscles coiling her limbs from training with Nasmira and dancing with Nahara. A scar from a small training mishap slashed through her right eyebrow and rose into her hairline. She’d even commissioned Natiqa to cut her hair, blunt and short enough that it ended just below her chin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a body well-lived in, loved and </span>
  <em>
    <span>homely</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The reflection was no longer a stranger but a person she came to cherish in the same way she did with her friends. The original Circe was no longer with them to an extent but </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was still present, the name didn’t hang loosely like ill-fitting clothes. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <span>It’d only taken three years to get used to it</span>
  <span>.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t the woman that Asra had cared for in the aftermath of the ritual, the one which was so worried about stepping wrong or giving away that they weren’t the same. She’d never be the woman who’d once held her likeness and body and the name. Prakra was good for her, it allowed her to find who she was without being </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Apprentice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was refreshing, like a dip in the Star Lakes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, going back to Vesuvia was an </span>
  <em>
    <span>interesting</span>
  </em>
  <span> choice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Originally, the idea of going back to the centre of it all was abhorrent. Why would she leave Prakra when she was so happy there? Then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>guilt</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Human emotion was a kick in the teeth, a punch in the gut. What would happen if she wasn’t there to trigger a chain of events? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Would Julian </span>
  <em>
    <span>hang</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a murder he didn’t commit?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Would Lucio eventually rise again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the plague returning with him?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Devil?</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh,” the woman reeled back, a little stunned at being recognised. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What can I say, I’m good at my job… I see </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>all</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>,” Circe teased, hiding her mischievous smirk with her cards. “Plus, the jewellery gives it away.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She couldn’t help but cackle at the Princesses sullen pout, watching as the woman shrugged her shawl back into place so that the headpiece didn’t wink in the light. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And here I thought I was doing so well,” she huffed but the pout melted away to an easy smile, her hand outstretched. “Princess Navra.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Circe shook her hand firmly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Navra laughed in return. “You’re supposed to kiss the rings of royalty.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The flush rose her neck slowly and the embarrassment was stifling. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You have a question?” Circe reminded her, eventually coming full circle to why the Princess had stumbled across her stall in the first place. It was important to Navra if the way her shoulders tensed and the dark look that shadowed her eyes; her fingers itched, the cards tugging on her senses with answers. With a patient smile, she nodded. “You can ask it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“My sister…” </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Nadia</em>
  </b>
  <b>,</b>
  <em>
    <span> her mind provided her. Long tyrian purple hair and scarlet eyes. “We haven’t heard from her in nearly a year, her home was struck by a plague a-and… is she safe?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her eyes were wide and beseeching, innocent in her concern for her youngest sister. It must’ve been weighing heavily on her if she sought out a Magician to try and give her some semblance of peace. Though part of Circe was glad that she’d stumbled across her humble stall rather than the quacks down near the docks. The ones there for a pretty coin and a quick fuck if the sailors fancied. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She hummed and let the cards speak to her, already knowing what card awaited her as she plucked it from the deck. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>The High Priestess</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A low laugh spilt from her before she could stop it and Navra glanced up from the table worriedly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that bad? Is it a bad thing!?” She was frantic. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s the best card you could’ve hoped for,” Circe was quick to reassure her. “The High Priestess is a guide, one of wisdom and womanhood. Your sister is safe… she is being guided to the correct path. Admittedly by unusual means but she is safe, she’s well… the plague won’t touch her.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Princess Navra’s eyes filled with tears. “How can you be sure?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Because I come from Vesuvia,” Circe told her with a smile. “Because the Count died and Countess Nadia was at the helm of things when I left.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not a lie but not exactly the truth. Nadia was no doubt in her deep slumber when she’d been resurrected, nothing more than the servants to keep her healthy. Portia would be by her side though and that was the best ally Nadia could have at that point. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“She’s safe?” Navra murmured hopefully. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“She’s safe.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Circe didn’t duck in time as the Princess leapt across the table to tackle her into a hug. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-ake up! Wake up,” Nasmira gave her a gentle shake, laughing when Circe batted her away. “We’re here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They couldn’t possibly be, she’d only been asleep for… her eyes fluttered open and she grimaced at the familiar markets of the South End. She’d been asleep a lot longer than she’d thought. At least they wouldn’t be passing by her shop before they made it to the palace; her heart clenched at the idea of Asra catching sight of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Navra will love these markets,” Nasmira murmured, completely unaware they were probably on the shadier side of the city. “Such interesting vendors!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If we let her loose, she’ll be gone the entire time we’re staying here,” Circe groaned, she remembered the last time the woman had dragged her down to the mid-week travelling markets in Prakra. Nazali had warned her but she hadn’t listened. No one saw them for fourteen hours </span>
  <em>
    <span>straight</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They came back just after twilight with an abundance of clothes, magical assortments, drunk and carrying a trump… for some reason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surely not, Nahara will-” Nasmira couldn’t even finish her argument, eyes going wide at the idea of the twins being left to roam free. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Circe nodded with a grimace. “Nahara will find the seediest bar and no doubt start a fight or two, </span>
  <em>
    <span>for fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t even send word for them not to come,” Nasmira looked regretful but excited all at the same time. “It’s been years since our family has been under the same roof - Didi married when she was only seventeen and Nazali has been travelling on and off for so long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The masquerade will be-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>a shit show</span>
  </em>
  <span> “-interesting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where to, ma’am?” The driver beckoned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Circe was the one to lean forward, giving him the quickest route towards the Palace gates. It’d mean passing by the Rowdy Raven but there were worse tourist attractions to pass by. Nasmira thought it was funny and watched the streets with wide eyes, enchanted by the place her sister called home. Circe had no doubts it was more Nasmira’s curiosity than anything that grabbed her attention. From what she’d told her about Nadia, the woman tended to take </span>
  <em>
    <span>projects</span>
  </em>
  <span> and work them into the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, with her slumber - the improvements had been left wayside and Vesuvia had slowly begun to crumble under the weight of the plague, the Count's death and its absent Countess. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take long to get to the Palace and it seemed the welcoming party had already gathered. Despite the age of some of the servants though, it was the young red-headed woman which surged to the forefront of the palace steps. Hands pressed together and an almost mischievous curl to her mouth with a smattering of freckles. </span>
  <b>
    <em>Portia</em>
  </b>
  <span>, her mind whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Princess Nasmira, we’re so glad you could make it, my name is Portia,” she introduced with a low curtsey as the servants fluttered around them, unloading the carts and taking their belongings with ease. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, the one who told us when Didi was awake!” Nasmira blinked and Portia didn’t have a seconds notice when the woman wrapped her arms around her. Her startled eyes dancing to Circe who struggled to hide her laughter. “Thank you so much, Nazali told us you were caring for her - </span>
  <em>
    <span>uh…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The topic of conversation wasn’t one best for open spaces. Something which Portia understood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid the Countess is actually visiting Praetor Vlastomil at this moment in time,” there’s a twitch in her features and no doubt, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuckery is already afoot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Admittedly, Circe couldn’t remember the details word for word, there were gaping holes in her knowledge. “Would you care to wait for her in the parlour?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think a reunion is overdue, actually,” Nasmira was practically vibrating with excitement. Her eyes bright at the thought of seeing Nadia once more, something Portia could see clearly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A carriage can be made for you Princess Nasmira,” Portia waved and within seconds the servants had already assembled to escort her. Very efficient or the red-head wasn’t someone you wanted to piss off - Circe had a feeling it was a mixture of the two. “Will your companion be joining you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’ll stay-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll stay here,” they spoke over one another with a knowing smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nasmira placed a hand on her shoulder, a querying look which Circe met with a roll of her eyes. The Princesses were too kind to her, they treated her more like a younger sibling sometimes than the Court Magician. It was thoughtful though and she waved the woman off, watching as she practically leapt into the carriage to whatever estate it was that the Countess had visited. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The servants disbanded quickly and Circe was left standing with Portia once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Portia,” the girl introduced herself again needlessly with a smile and Circe grinned back. “I’ve heard wonderful things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“<em>Ah</em>, Circe, I’m the Prakran Court Magician,” it felt weird but it’d been her title for nearly two years. “I used to live in Vesuvia a few years ago, thought I’d come back and see how things were faring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Navra mentioned you in her letters,” Portia gave a wink and she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified </span>
  </em>
  <span>to find out what the Princess had told people about her. They knew too much, too many embarrassing things. The panic was clear on her face since Portia gave a full-bellied laugh, the warm kind which didn’t hold back. Not like those tittering giggles she suffered through with the Princesses entourage and handmaidens. “Nothing too bad, don’t worry! Something was said about a </span>
  <em>
    <span>rubber duck</span>
  </em>
  <span>-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Circe’s lips opened and closed, smacking together in an almost fish-like impression. “I… don’t think I’ll ever live that one down.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna know some of the embarrassing stories Nadia’s told me about them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Circe grinned and looped her arm through Portia’s. “You and me? We’re gonna have </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know,” Navra murmured as if they weren’t sprawled over one another in the small tent. “I quite like you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Circe wheezed, completely winded. “I’d like you more, your royal highness, if you got off of me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The woman scrambled off of the Magician with a laugh, wiping away her tears with care not to smear her make up or upset her jewellery. They made no move to sit back at the upturned table but Circe groaned at the sight of her cards scattered; all of them glaring upwards at her for the callous treatment. For silent beings of pure and ancient energy, they were awfully judgmental. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sorry about that, it’s just…” Navra shrugged. “It has been a difficult time for all of us. You’re the first soothsayer which has actually given me hope.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re seeing other witches?” Circe placed a hand against her chest, looking utterly wounded as she began to pick up her cards. A small smile curling her mouth at the Princesses laughter. “I’m glad to be of service but I just read what the cards tell me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you just do readings?” Navra asked. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With a flick of her wrist, she sighed as magic flowed through her gently - watching as the cards collected themselves and settled in a neat stack in her palm; it was rare she did more ostentatious magic, spellwork wasn’t her forte… Circe learnt best by following her instincts. The books which she’d taken with her had only lasted so long before she’d mastered the little resources she had. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I dabble in a bit of everything,” she said quietly, turning her stool the right way up and doing the same for the table. “Readings are what I do best but I enjoy runes… potions, tinctures and such.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We have an academy that teaches young witches like yourself.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, Circe had seen them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was a colourful building nestled into the cliff sides of Prakra. She’d caught sight of it on her boat ride over from the Pearl Islands, sparks and clouds and glittering eyesores abundant as young witches worked with their tutors. Wafts of the strong herbs they worked with dancing through the streets and coating the docks; sage and myrrh and lavender, the kind of scents which inspired a distant sort of homesickness in her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t miss Vesuvia. Just her little shop. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Even her vaguest of memories of her Aunt Indira were fleeting but she remembered when the older woman had insisted on Circe taking over the shop. It was a place she'd visited throughout her... well, </span>
  </em>
  <span>their<em> childhood</em>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve been learning my craft for over a decade,” Circe told the Princess. “It’d feel wrong to go into a classroom full of new witches.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A decade! You must be good by now then,” Navra insisted as she perched on her stool. Her mouth open and eyes glittering and Circe felt her gut swell apprehensively - but whatever she’d been planning on saying was cut short by the bell tower. The simple church around the corner. The clock struck nine times and Navra visibly startled. “Is that the time already?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Princesses have curfews?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Princesses who snuck out </span>
  </em>
  <span>definitely</span>
  <em>
    <span> have curfews,” Navra admitted guiltily but Circe just threw her head back and laughed. “Will you be here tomorrow?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m here every day.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The Princess didn't even say goodbye before running out. Circe considered her last customer carefully as she tucked away her deck into her satchel. Perhaps she could change her venue? Then again, she'd missed <span>Anaïs </span>and Danae too much... and their cooking. No doubt one of them would be poking their head through with an offer of dinner soon enough so Circe began to dismantle her small stall. As per usual every evening and she only stopped when she noticed the pouch of coins that had been left on her table.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Royal Seal unmissable. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She laughed. “Cheeky little shit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did I write this insanely quickly because I couldn't stop thinking of this idea last night? Yes, yes I did. The Princesses of Prakra will feature heavily into this because why the heck not?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “Knock knock!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Princess cooed almost mockingly and Circe silently lamented not moving her stall closer to the market centre.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Navra made her triumphant return, ducking into the empty tent with a wide grin. It was almost feline in her smugness. It only made it sweeter when she launched the pouch of coins at the woman, smacking her between the eyes with enough force that the Princess stumbled back a step or two. Hopefully, it’d leave a nice red mark in its wake.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ow!” She whined, even as Circe chuckled under her breath. “Is that any way to treat your Princess?” </em>
</p><p><em> “A sneaky Princess? </em> Sure <em> .” She shrugged her shoulders with a satisfied grin of her own, one that wavered ever so slightly when the curtain pulled back to reveal another woman. At least a head taller than Navra, they were similar enough in looks alone for her to immediately connect the dots. Another Princess.  “I didn’t realise you’d be bringing company.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Navra blushed deeply. “Nahara’s been tasked with escorting me because-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Because someone snuck out yesterday and the palace went into a frenzy trying to find her,” Nahara said blankly, tone even and her lips pursed. She flicked her braid over her shoulder, the golden colour was rich and sinful, much like the colour of her eyes. Her voice was deep and smooth. “I apologise for whatever mischief my sister caused you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Circe waved away the apology, smile easing. “She was my favourite customer.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nahara arched a brow with curious amusement. “Is that why you pelted her with a coin satchel?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, that’s because she’s a brat.” It took her a second to realise what she’d said and Circe slapped a hand over her mouth for her candour.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was an honest answer at least, one which the Princess hadn’t been expecting if the owlish blink she received was anything to go by. Navra looked calm in the face of it all, her eyes flicking between her sister and the magician like it was a chess game. As the silence stretched between them, Circe was worried she’d offended the other woman.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was worried for no reason since Nahara threw her head back and laughed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How blunt, I’m not used to such honesty,” the Princess said with a smile. “I am Princess Nahara, Navra’s twin.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Circe paused when Nahara offered her a hand, it was only for a second though. She clasped it in a firm handshake which made the woman’s smile widen, pleased for some reason. “I’m sorry I don’t have an extra stool, I didn’t realise the Princess would need babysitting.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Navra whined under her breath. “Maybe introducing the two of you was a bad idea.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re own fault,” Nahara was firm but her smile was soft. They were close. “If you hadn’t disobeyed-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We’re thirty-four next summer, Nahara, I think we’re a little old to be grounded.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nahara sighed deeply. “And yet, you act like a child.”</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Portia ended up guiding her to the kitchens. </p><p>A wave of homesickness passed through her, reminded heavily of the back rooms of the Prakran palace. Just like their kitchens, it was abuzz with activity, a hub of staff and idle chatter and <em>gossip </em>no doubt. The only difference was that the servants seemed to come and go at a dizzying pace, one which Portia matched easily as she danced from person to person. Well-acquainted with everyone, laughing and asking after their family with sincerity. She took the role as Head Servant seriously, making sure that everyone was happy. </p><p>It was nice to see, Portia was clearly in her element as she charmed and joked her way through the staff. Circe watched her for a moment before taking on one of the many benches lining the tables, smiling and introducing herself to the surrounding staff on their breaks. </p><p>“Bludmila,” a guard grinned back, shaking her hand strongly before stabbing the man next to her with her elbow. “And this lump is Ludovico.”</p><p>The man choked on his food, not expecting the jab. </p><p>“Watch where you put those things, ‘Mila,” he grunted, shying away when she reached to elbow him again. “I swear, send you and your elbows out onto the front lines-”</p><p>They were cut short by a heavy sigh, Portia dipped into the conversation easily, slipping into the empty spot next to Circe. “Are the two of you arguing <em>again? </em>”</p><p>The three of them shared knowing smirks, no doubt it was a common occurrence but what grabbed her attention was the bowl which Portia slid right under her nose. A simple bowl of porridge with honey and sugared almonds. The red-head smiled as Circe eagerly picked up a spoon. “I didn’t know what you liked, the chef just told me to give you it.”</p><p>Circe made sure to lean back, catching a glimpse of the person pottering around the counters and checking the seven bowls they had going. The man caught her eye and she gave a thumbs-up in thanks, receiving a grin for her efforts and being pulled back into the ongoing argument as Portia mediated. </p><p>“He started it,” Bludmila whined. </p><p>“D’you have any plans today?” Portia asked, pointedly ignoring the bickering couple, kind enough to consider the possibility. There was something about her which reminded Circe of Navra, maybe it was the cheerful disposition, never letting anything get her down for long. Spirits help them all when the two would eventually meet. Their optimism would blind them. “You said you used to live here so I didn’t know if you’d made plans to meet anyone.”</p><p>The guards perked up in interest but made a show of continuing to eat their meal, an odd insult flying across their heads.</p><p>Circe didn’t <em>intend </em>on encountering anyone she used to <em> ‘know </em>’ but it was out of her hands to an extent. Asra would no doubt be able to find her once they were in close vicinity, Julian didn’t recall her whatsoever and she’d yet to meet Nadia. </p><p>“I’ve got no plans,” Circe smiled. </p><p>“Not even to see family?” Portia queried but it wasn’t invasive or interrogative. The woman wore her heart on her sleeve, the idea of not even seeing <em>family </em>seemed appalling to her. “Surely you’re gonna see them!”</p><p>“Most of my family’s in Hjalle, I used to visit Vesuvia over the summers because my Aunt had a shop here,” it had been strange to think about, all her time spent in Prakra and the idea that her family was out there, unsure of her fate. Nazali had been the one to find them during their travels, hunting down her elusive Aunt Indira. They were all alive and well, concerned about her disappearance but apparently, it wasn’t unusual for Circe to swan off in a fit of wanderlust. </p><p>She received letters from them every few months, a family she didn’t remember… <em> it was weird</em>. </p><p>Portia latched onto the tidbit though, a dog to a bone. </p><p>“A shop?” she leaned forward, eager to know more. Bludmila and Ludovico forwent any pretence that they <em>weren’t </em>eavesdropping but they weren’t the only ones. It seemed like a few other workers sat around them were a little too curious for their own good but that was to be expected, nothing remained a secret for long when it came to palace gossip. </p><p>“It was just around the corner from the bakers, <em> Serpent’s Pass </em> ?” Circe hummed, blinking at the slow nods and a few blinks of surprise. It wasn’t all too well-known when she’d left, perhaps Asra had kept it running in her <em>extended absence? </em> “My Aunt left it to me a few years ago before moving back home.”</p><p>“So you know Asra, right?” Portia asked, her spoon pointed at her, a crease formed between her brow. </p><p>Ah, <em> yes</em>, Asra. </p><p>Nadia would’ve contacted him by that point, no apprentice to stumble upon in the dead of night - she’d find the next best thing. Someone who knew vaguely what they were doing. She’d probably encounter him at the palace at some point, any knowledge she had about timelines or events was hazy at best. It was like watching a memory through a keyhole. </p><p>“I know him,” she said simply. “Why?”</p><p>“We met him a week or two ago,” Bludmila commented, jumping into the conversation. </p><p>“Nice bloke,” Ludovico added unhelpfully. </p><p>“Yes,” Portia murmured, eyeing the guards darkly. “And his presence at the palace was supposed to be a <em> secret</em>, remember?”</p><p>The two looked away sheepishly.</p><p>“I’m guessing he showed up all mysterious like? Far off places, seems too worldly and almost <em>wise </em> … is he still wearing that <em>hat? </em>” Circe grinned as she recalled it, she’d made fun of it many times in the month they’d spent together. </p><p>“The one with the feather?” Portia asked, a small smile twitching at her mouth. </p><p>“I told him it looked ridiculous,” she rolled her eyes, lips pursing but… <em> then again</em>, had she actually told him that? It felt right and she sounded sure of herself but when Circe tried to summon the memory, it vanished. Like <em>bubbles</em>. “I’ll admit, it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“The last time I was in Vesuvia was… <em> three years ago</em>,” it seemed like yesterday she was standing in her shop, saying her goodbyes. At the same time though, three years was a long time and it almost dragged in a heady haze, the Prakran heat going to her head. A small smile curved her mouth, half-bitten and almost shy. “We were very different people back then.”</p><p>“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you,” Portia was quick to reassure her, knowing almost instinctively that was what she needed to hear. </p><p>“<em>Maybe</em>,” Circe hummed. </p><p>They sat in soft silence for a moment until a wave of chatter seemed to overcome the staff once more, the Head Servant leaning back with a perked ear - eyes widening as she listened in. </p><p>“The Countess is back! Alright, let's start preparing dinner, Alistair! Has the sheets in the guest rooms-” the Magician quickly lost sight of the woman as she fled, a thousand and one jobs on her list as she danced through the kitchen with ease. Circe watched her go with a smile, knowing that Portia would eventually find her way back if only to greet Countess Nadia. </p><p>Bludmila chuckled. “You get used to it… <em> eventually </em>.”</p><p>She left the staffs company and found her way back to Nasmira, the mutterings of worms and carriages and strange praetores were lost on Circe. They unpacked slowly in their quarters and Circe began to long for her small room back in the palace, as lovely as the grandeur was, she preferred the comfort of her own belongings. They weren't magnificent or grand but her small shabby room, odd gemstones and well-worn mattress suited her just fine. </p><p>Portia came to them eventually, escorting them to the dining room just as the sun began to set and dinner was served. </p><p>“Circe is our Court Magician,” Nasmira introduced them properly as they sat at the small table. It was tiny in the gigantic room, portraits and paintings surrounding them and she made sure to avoid gazing at the late Counts likeness. “Circe, this is our youngest sister, Nadia.”</p><p>“A pleasure, Countess,” and for once, she had meant it. </p><p>Nadia was a beloved topic between her sisters, her absence was felt keenly so they made the effort to speak of her frequently to fill the void she’d left. Nahara enjoyed her voyages across the waters but they were usually shorter trips, claiming that she could never leave Navra unsupervised for too long. Nazali came and went at their leisure but other than that, the rest of the Princesses had never ventured further than Prakra or the Pearl Islands. Nadia’s seat remained forever open at the dining table.</p><p>“Your sisters have told me so much about you,” Circe smiled. “You’re a formidable woman.”</p><p>“Thank you,” the Countess seemed almost stunned by the declaration. “I cannot remember the last time mother entertained a Court Magician.”</p><p>“Nazali was barely a year old when the last Magician left the court,” Nasmira nodded, unable to recall any details at all about the man which had been with them. If only for a few short years and not to the extent that Circe had embedded herself in their lives, Queen Nasrin was quite fond of her in her own right, nevermind as simply a magician. “Mother agreed to Circe joining the Court a few years ago.”</p><p>“It seems like great minds think alike, I’ve also brought a Magician into the fold… though he’s more involved in looking into my- <em> husbands </em>unusual death,” Nadia commented, the pause when recalling her spouse was almost negligible. “You may have heard of him, I know his travels are expansive-”</p><p>
  <em> Oh, no. </em>
</p><p>“-I’m sure Asra has visited Prakra a few times.”</p><p>Nasmira, bless her soul, didn’t bat an eyelid at the name. She waited until Nadia’s attention was turned elsewhere before her eyes flicked towards their magician with concern. If Portia hadn’t have mentioned him earlier, the shock might’ve hit her a little harder. Despite knowing something like this was going to happen, Circe could feel the colour drain from her face but all she could do was shake her head. Nasmira would ask her questions later but it would be left alone until then, she couldn’t afford her carefully crafted mask of indifference to falter. </p><p>Not at that point. </p><p>“I’m afraid I’ve not had the pleasure of encountering him,” Nasmira said with an easy smile as Nadia looked back at her sister. “Will he be joining us soon?”</p><p>“He’s currently travelling at the moment, he should be back within a day or two.”</p><p><em> That wasn’t too bad</em>, Circe thought to herself, she had time… time to do <em>what </em>exactly?</p><p>She couldn’t run away, the Princesses were all making an appearance for the masquerade and the Queen was coming as well. Navra and Nahara would be showing up within a day or so. Even if she did make it out of Vesuvia - she had a feeling that escaping now would be more difficult than it had been nearly three years ago. </p><p>“Ah, Nasmira, thank you for the swordfish,” Nadia murmured as the plate was set in front of them. Circe wasn’t all too hungry and the spiced swordfish wasn’t her favourite. “I’ve not managed to find a chef that could replicate it, I have been craving it for weeks.”</p><p>“It’s your favourite,” Nasmira beamed, ignorant to her little sister's stuttered movements, obviously surprised that she’d remembered. “I also managed to bring some of those sugared almonds you enjoy.”</p><p>“That’s very kind of you,” Nadia hummed, flustered and uncomfortable at such gestures, she turned on Circe with a vengeance. “Tell me, Circe, how are you finding Vesuvia? Is it how you remember?” </p><p>“Being completely honest, Countess, I <em> don’t </em>remember Vesuvia entirely,” the woman had a shrewd gaze, calculating and knowing. A single eyebrow arched in interest. “Three years ago I lost a large portion of my memories… without them to keep me here, I decided to travel. Everything has… a familiar edge to it but nothing rings any bells. It’s a little frustrating.”</p><p>“How unfortunate,” she seemed sincere in her concern. “I am sorry to hear that, I hope Prakra was able to create some better memories for you.”</p><p>“It’s home,” and it truly was. </p><p>“Nasmira tells me you’re quite close to a few of my sisters,” there’s a curl to her lip, a sneer in the undertone of her words that most tried to ignore but Circe could see the way Nasmira faltered ever so slightly. Her heart was too big for her body sometimes and it stoked a wave of simmering anger in her. “Navra, in particular?”</p><p>“She’s my closest friend,” there was no hesitation. Despite the years apart, her spirit and flat-out refusal to give her any personal space made up for it. The sheer enthusiasm which Navra had for everything in life was refreshing and a much-needed boost when she was at her loneliest. “She came to my stall, some <em>two years ago? </em> Trying her best to blend in and failing <em> miserably </em> and then, when I gave her reading - she leapt over the table and nearly knocked us both out trying to hug me.”</p><p>Nadia smothered her smile with a bite of her food. </p><p>“That does sound like something Navra would do,” the Countess sighed, as if put-upon by her sister's behaviour but Circe could see the faintest curve of a smile. It smoothed away the tall-tale curl of her earlier sneer. “She always was a little…”</p><p>“...Lively?” Nasmira offered. </p><p>“Feral,” Nadia deadpanned and Circe choked on her wine, spluttering as she cackled. </p><p>“Well,” Nasmira grumbled, poking her food absentmindedly, nodding reluctantly. “You’re not wrong.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
<em> She spent the day with the Princesses.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then the next.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Eventually, they consumed her week.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The people of Prakra watched in amusement as Navra dragged her around easily and when Circe tried to fall back, to slip away, Nahara was there with a firm hand on her shoulder. Anaïs commented about their presence at dinner, about the smile which the young magician wore more often nowadays, as reluctant and exasperated as it seemed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Circe didn’t think much of it, she was having too much fun to consider it all. For weeks she’d spent relatively reclusive, her time in Zadith passed slowly, like moving through molasses. She’d saved up enough doing simple conjuring tricks to buy her supplies, to make her tarot deck. Lovingly hand-painted and imbued with her magic. They’d been her only companions when she crossed the Emerald seas into Prakra.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t you trust us?” Navra pouted.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You said the same thing in the spice shop,” Circe stared at the carriage warily. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How was I supposed to know that it was flammable?” </em>
</p><p><em> “Probably because the vendor </em>told <em>you it was flammable, sister,” Nahara sighed, understanding the magician's reluctance after their somewhat dubious antics. “However, I can vouch for this venture. It will work out perfectly.” </em></p><p>
  <b>Perfectly</b>
  <em>, hah! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Mama! This is Circe, she’s a magician,” Navra introduced her, ignorant to Circe’s wide eyes and fidgeting movements. Despite her refusal, they’d promptly kidnapped her from the stall, she’d expected another day dallying around the markets or even heading the beaches. She didn’t expect to be bundled up in a carriage and trotted off to the palace, laid out in front of the Queen in her worn leather boots and patchwork dress.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It went unsaid that the Queen was a beautiful woman. Tall and stately, elegant in every way, long luscious bone-white hair that suited her chiselled features. Circe could see her daughters, Navra’s smile and Nahara’s eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Can we keep her?” Navra asked, squishing Circe’s cheeks together and shaking her ever so slightly with a coo - like she was a dog. “Pleeea~se!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Queen Nasrin said nothing for a moment but a slow and mischievous smile curled her mouth, an eyebrow arched as she shared a glance with her husband,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m not sure, Navra-dear, do you think you could handle the responsibility?” the Queen’s voice was steady but the room could hear the thread of amusement in her tone. His majesty, Namara, muffled his quiet laughter. “You will have to walk her and feed her.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Circe was forcefully made to nod alongside Navra, the Princess yelping when she wriggled and bit away from the offending hand that gripped her chin.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I think she might need to be put down,” Navra whined, holding her hand to her chest. “Nahara does this look infected?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why do I put up with you?” Circe found herself saying, exasperated but fond, realising her slip of the tongue in front of the Queen with a nervous smile. “My apologies, your majesty.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “My daughters are a handful at the best of times,” Queen Nasrin waved the comment away with a more genuine smile. “Navra and Nahara are mischievous and prone to troublemaking, I’m sure a magician such as yourself can keep them in line.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nahara scoffed from near the back of the room.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Circe attracts more trouble than the pair of us combined,” she declared loudly and almost </em><b>proudly</b>. <em>It said something about her ability to attract trouble since Navra was known to have caused at least three fires in the week that she’d known the princesses and Nahara was never one to back down from a challenge of any sort. “Do you remember hearing about the scene on the promenade just last week-” </em></p><p>
  <em> Circe squeaked. “That was your fault and you know it!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I wasn’t the one who baited the sailors,” Nahara insisted, closing in and towering over Circe, the corner of her mouth curling ever so slightly. “What was it you called them?” </em>
</p><p><em> “Nothing I can say in front of your </em> <b> <em>mother</em> </b> <em> .” </em></p><p>
  <em> The Queen laughed. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Despite having most of this written up since I published the last chapter, I could seem to piece it together. I live for Portia, just... gimme more of her. I'm already up to date on her path and thirsty for more!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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